I’m from the UK, visiting a Lego theme park in Denmark. I’m in the gift shop, browsing, when I overhear another customer talking to the cashier.

Customer: “I had no idea Lego had such a good park in Denmark!”

Cashier: “Well, Ma’am, Lego is from—”

Customer: “It’s amazing that an American company has such a great park in Denmark! America gets such a bad rap these days, but it’s so nice that kids around the world get to play with an American invention.”

The cashier spends a few seconds considering their response.

Cashier: “I… yes, madam.”

It was sweet of the cashier to let her have that… but wow.

I’m working alone in a novelty and gift shop, rearranging a display of polished stones, when a customer walks up.

Customer: “These crystals, do you have any more of these in the back?”

Me: “I think so, let me check.”

Customer: “Oh, but if you do, don’t touch them.”

I just stare at her.

Me: “Ma’am… how am I supposed to bring them out to you if I can’t touch them?”

Customer: “I don’t know, but you have some negative energy about you, so if you touch them, you’ll ruin them.”

Me: “…Well then, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Customer: “Could you maybe get someone with better energy to get them?”

Me: “I’m the only one working right now. Also, you do realize that our stock has been handled by potentially dozens of people on its way from where they’re sourced to our store?”

Customer: “Oh, maybe, but I didn’t see them, so their energy doesn’t count. Are you sure there’s no one in the back who can get them?”

I sigh and go find my manager on break. I explain the situation.

Manager: “…Fine. If you open the box, I’ll carry them out.”

I head to the back, find the delivery box, open the container of crystals… and deliberately rub my hands all over them just to soak them in my apparent negative aura.

Then I hand them to my manager.

He walks them out, holding them like they’re holy relics.

Customer: *Beaming.* “Oh, that’s much better! I can just feel the positive energy coming from them!”

Customer: “Hi, I’ll take this astronaut suit for my son. He’s going as Neil Armstrong for Halloween.”

Me: “Great choice! That’ll be $49.99.”

Customer: “Hmm… I think you should give me a discount.”

Me: “Oh? May I ask why?” 

Customer: “Because it’s not authentic. It’s not a real Apollo suit.”

Me: “…Right. That’s because it’s a children’s costume, ma’am.” 

Customer: “Still. You’re charging full price for something that’s not the real thing.”

Me: “Yes. Because the real thing is worth millions of dollars and belongs in a climate-controlled vault, not a trick-or-treat bag.” 

Customer: “Well, I’ve been a member of this museum for years. Surely that should count for something.”

Me: “It does. You get 10% off. On everything. Including children’s costumes. Which, again, are not genuine NASA-issued equipment.” 

Customer: “But my son needs to look authentic for school. This isn’t. So, you won’t discount it further?” 

Me: “If it helps, I can throw in the moon dust for free.”

Customer: “That’s just glitter!”

Me: “…Yep, same authenticity rating as everything else we sell. If not, I’d be very worried about the black hole keychains.”

I may have been sassier than I needed to be, but it seemed to finally drive the point home to the customer.

I’m working alone in the little outdoor gift shop trailer at a tourist attraction when a family comes into the shop: mom, dad, a little boy, and his older sister. The boy is fixated on the bouncy rubber balls, while the girl browses the plush snakes with mild disappointment.

Me: *Pointing upward.* “We also have bigger snakes on the top shelf.”

The girl looks up and freezes. Her eyes go wide. There, coiled on display, are 5’6″ plush snakes. She turns to her dad, excitement radiating off her.

Dad: *Groaning with a smile.* “Why did you have to point those out?”

Now the boy is bouncing with excitement too, chanting about snakes instead of balls. Minutes later, they walk out of the shop with enormous snakes draped around their necks like scarves, both kids grinning from ear to ear.

Customer: “I want a refund! This incense tastes terrible!”

I blink, because… well, they’re incense.

Me: “Ma’am… you’re not supposed to eat them.”

Customer: “Then what the h*** are you supposed to do with them?!”

We do have a return policy for unopened items, but this box is missing several sticks, and the ones left are clearly chewed on. My manager, bless her patient soul, decides to just refund the woman to get her out of the store.

She marches back in, cash refund in hand.

My manager, coworker, and I are joking about the incident when my coworker freezes like he’s just seen a horror movie villain. We turn to see what he’s looking at, and it’s the customer, heading back to the checkouts.

Coworker: “Oh no.”

Me: “What?”

Coworker: *Whispering.* “She’s buying potpourri.”

Manager: “Get ready for the world’s driest salad complaint.”